The Pact
by Shadythief
Summary: Set during the siege of Orgrimmar, a group of Horde and Alliance must work together in the wake of a great disaster, and fight for their freedom. Will they succeed? Can they defeat Garrosh? Read on and find out! A re-write of an older story.


**Hello everyone! This was originally my very first attempt at writing. And well...even I thought it sucked. So I will be re-writing it, slowly bringing out new, improved chapters over time. Please, leave comments both good and bad, to let me know what your thoughts are.**

**I do not own anything to do with the Warcraft universe, its Blizzards baby.**

Chapter one

Vakama fell to the floor, that last blow knocking the wind out of him. As his vision cleared, he glanced around the room. His team, people he would now go to hell and back for, were beaten. If they weren't dead, they were unable to fight any longer, he had been the last one left. A shadow fell over him, and he looked up, to the one responsible for not just his team's defeat, but also the destruction of Theramore, destroying the Vale of Eternal Blossoms, and everything else that has gone wrong these last few months. Garrosh Hellscream, "Warchief" of the Horde, looked down on him, and sneered.

"So, this is the best you could find? These are the "great heroes" of the Alliance and Horde?" he laughed.

Vakama cleared his throat of blood. "These people are worth one hundred of you, mongrel" he spat.

Garrosh rolled his eyes, his muscles rippling under his now mutated purple skin. "Have some dignity before I kill you, elf" he said, "think of this as a blessing, you and your group won't experience the New Hordes conquering of the world. Why, when I'm through…."

Vakama tuned out the rest, instead drinking in Garrosh's appearance. The once brown Orc now had a purplish glow to his skin, and purple shalings clung to him, like little parasites, feeding of his power. Of course, the thing hanging above him was far scarier, and as he looked at it, he trembled. The Heart of Y'Shaarj hung from the sealing, pulsing sickly and beating slowly, sending out waves of corrupted power. Vakama was a death knight and he was no stranger to foul magic's, but this magic felt… wrong. Like nothing he had ever felt. It was just….evil. Just thinking Garrosh absorbing all that power….he shuddered.

He turned his attention back in to what Garrosh was saying.

"I might as well kill you now, and your friend Vol'jin and his pitiful army will be next". He raised his axe, a foul look alike of his old weapon, Gorehowl, and swung it down towards his chest, intending to finish him off.

Vakama, the fight not quite kicked out of him, raised both his hands and grabbed either side of the edge of the axe blade, stopping it just before the tip imbedded his chest. It was a struggle, blood blocked his vision and his strength was all but gone. But he was still a death knight, one of the best. He remembered the times in Northrend, carving and killing in the name of Arthas. He had been one of the Lich kings most trusted Knights, and it was this, that was keeping him alive at this moment.

Garrosh roared, fangs bared and spittle flying in all directions, his patience gone. Showing his true colors at last, he drew his axe back and before Vakama could react, sent the heel of his metal, blood stained boot towards his face. He saw stars, but still managed to crawl a few feet away. He couldn't use his legs, and was forced to crawl on his elbows, leaving a trail of blood behind him. Garrosh crossed the distance in one short stride, and planted a boot on his back, pinning him down.

He roared again, "Die Death Knight!" He raised his axe, and as he brought it down, Vakama thought back to how all this had started, and what had led them all to this point…

* * *

><p>"Alright maggots, listen up!" Nazgrim, General of the Horde forces shouted to the few assembled in front of him.<p>

Vakama would have rolled his eyes, but nobody would have noticed. He and five others had been called before the General, for a 'special task' apparently. He glanced outside of the large, red tent they were inside, and saw peaceful green hills lined with white blankets of snow.

Pandaria really was a beautiful place, filled with many places and people that could put anyone at ease. Well, except for him. Herbal tea doesn't tend to work when you're dead. The Kun-Lei summits was no different, besides the yak problems. He glanced down the line of people he was in, knowing each one personally.

First in line was a huge, and he meant huge Orc. His skin was a yellowish green, his eyes a deep brown. Despite his huge size, he was more inclined towards healing then fighting, being a shaman and all. He wore simple robes, wolf pelt on his shoulders. He also wore a hood made from the head of a wolf, giving him a terrifying visage. But he was kind, Vakama guessed. His name was Broxigar.

Next to Brox was another huge man, this time Pandaren. Nuju Ironfist was of the Hou'jin, and lived for a good fight. He also lived for a good brew, but Vakama couldn't really relate to that. He was a warrior, and favored a large axe me made himself. His armor had obvious Pandaren influences in it, the coloring a light brown with red mixed in.

Behind him was a Blood Elf, which he didn't know much about. Her name was Khallys Darkmoore, as for as he knew, and she didn't really talk all too much. He also knew she was a warlock, especially now as she clicked her fingers impatiently, small green sparks forming every time. Her fel green eyes met his pale blue ones, and he looked away. He still wasn't used to those eyes…

He shuddered, and looked onto the next person present. Or rather, he looked down. Shadii Shortshank was one of the best thieves in the business, able to sneak, or flirt, her way out of any situation. The fact she was a Goblin only made her more ruthless and unpredictable. Her armor was dark, tight fitting leather, her daggers glowing ominously. He knew it was poison, but it reminded him of that fel magic. He looked to the last person present.

She wore golden and white robes, hood up. Out of everyone here, she would have to be the most unhappy, and Vakama could relate, for a change. Linda Roseburg was a Forsaken, having only been still alive just a few weeks ago. She died here in Pandaria, and was raised here too. She hadn't even seen the Undercity, or Orgrimmar. She stood listening, but he could see she was still scared.

He sighed to himself, her situation reminding him of himself a bit. He thought about what had brought him here to this point.

Vakama had been a guardsman of Quel 'Thalas when Arthas and the Scourge invaded. He had fought valiantly, but was ultimately killed, along with many of his brethren. He had been raised in Arthas's cruelty to become a Death Knight, a champion of the undead. The whole process had addled his brain a bit, and instead of becoming grim and foreboding, he became just a little insane. He looked down at himself. His armor was still what he used to wear. Black, with frosty blue lights coming off it. One of his shoulders a skull, and he wore a simple dark hood to finish the look.

He returned to the land of the present, and listened to see if he had missed anything important. Nazgrim was still talking about Horde this, Garrosh that, and so he returned to his reminiscing. He and the others had been brought here to Pandaria early on, being bunched together as a strike team, capturing targets of Horde interest, or killing key Alliance personal. They had accomplished much together, and although one or two were distant, they all knew each other.

"Alright, now that you have all that in your head, the reason I brought you here" Nazgrim instructed, bringing a map up and laying it on the table.

Vakama sighed, finally he thought to himself. They all gathered around, squeezing and moving around to find a spot to see. The map was of the whole of Pandaria, but one area was circled. The fabled Vale of Eternal Blossoms, an area they hadn't really explored. Nazgrim pointed a big green finger right in the middle of the circle.

"Im sending you to guard this area. This is the location of the Goblin mines our Warchief ordered to be constructed. We have received intelligence that the Alliance are planning a raid on the mines. You will guard those mines with your lives, and not let a single blue loving sissy get in, understood?" He told them all, looking around expectantly.

The crowd had varying faces. Some looked weary, others looked excited for what was too come, while some showed disinterest, Nazgrim nodded, pleased with what he saw.

"Right, if you complete this, then you all will be granted a well-deserved rest. Any questions?" he asked, his eyes daring someone to speak.

Brox nodded, stepping forward. "What is it we seek down there?" He asked, his voice deep and rumbly.

Nazgrim sneered. "That is none of your concern" He stated, almost spitting the words out.

Brox frowned, but returned to the group. The General looked around one last time, then nodded. He wrapped the map up, and pointed a finger out the entrance.

"A yak and cart will be waiting for you, you have one hour to prepare" He told them, making his way out himself. "Make the Horde proud."

They all stood there for a moment, no words traded.

"Well isn't this great, guard duty. What a waste" Khallys remarked, her eyes flashing in annoyance.

Shadii shrugged. "Hey, anythings good as long as we get paid. Besides, whats wrong with an easy job?" she asked cheerfully, gleam in her eye.

Nuju rubbed his chin, thinking. "It may not be so easy. The Alliance might have a trick or two up its sleeve. In any event, I am off to pack. I will make sure to bring my pots and pans" He chuckled.

Everyone besides Vakama and Linda made a collective 'mmm' noise, and went to pack for themselves, leaving the two undead's inside. Vakama looked at her, tilting his head.

"Are you going to be ok?" He asked her, voice monotone.

She shrugged lightly. "I don't know…this is all still hard to get used to" she said quietly. She lowered her hood, probably to let some air hit her face.

She was, for an undead, very beautiful. None of the marks, or rot was on her, her skin as flawless as when she died. The only indicators were her deathly white skin, and her pale yellow eyes. She sighed, and made her way out, not saying another word.

He watched her go, remembering his own troubles with coming to terms about being dead. He pondered on that a while longer, then made his way out, heading for his little tent. It really was little, seeing as he didn't need much. He reached inside and retrieved his weapon, a massive rune blade. Black, with ridges running along it, he had killed many a thing with it. And now it seemed he was off to kill some more.

He headed for the caravan, waiting for everyone else to arrive. Eventually, everyone made it. And they all piled on, making sure not to squish anyone. They really were an odd bunch, but, Vakama realized, he wouldn't trade them for anyone. He couldn't bring himself to say it, but he sort of…liked them. He coughed mentally at the thought, and shook it out of his head.

The Yak made way, pulling them along the country sights of the summits. They watched passersby and the wildlife as they were pulled along at a lazy pace, the yak in no rush to get anywhere. Vakama glanced into the distance, seeing the far away gates that led into the Vale. He felt a strange pit in his stomach, and knew that this mission wasn't going to be as easy, or even similar to the last few.

Pushing the feeling aside, he readied his mind for what might happen, and watched as they all slowly crept closer to the gates, and their next mission.


End file.
